


Sweater Weather

by Lightybug



Category: Free!
Genre: Childhood, Friends to Lovers, M/M, makoharu fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightybug/pseuds/Lightybug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Haruka knits Makoto a sweater and is oblivious to exactly how sentimental Makoto truly is. </p>
<p>For the MakoHaru festival on tumblr! Theme: Out Grown</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on a whim to be honest. I think I'll do one prompt per batch for the challenges and do more only if I have time to write. I really liked this one.
> 
> Enjoy!

Haruka’s grandmother always said the best gifts were ones that were made and not bought, and Haruka knew his grandmother was wise and that her advice was important.

And even, as he stood, ten years old, in front of Makoto’s favorite store at the shopping center, he couldn’t buy anything. Makoto loved this store. Whenever they went to the center with Makoto’s parents, Makoto would insist they go in if only for a few minutes. The shelves were glass, illuminated with soft lights over head. The white light shone off the surfaces of figurines made out of a number of materials from quartz to glass to fluorite, ranging in many colors. Haru loved the way Makoto’s eyes lit up in the store as he looked over the animals crafted out of glass, the delicately painting porcelain houses that doubled as tea candle holders, the light streaming down making his green eyes seem brighter than usual.

The items were expensive for boy their ages, and neither of them ever had enough to buy one, but Makoto always said he was content with looking. He was selfless like that, saving his money to buy cute thing for Ren and Ran, and Haru too more often than not.

Haru had been saving his allowance for months now all in preparation for Makoto’s birthday. Haruka had loved his own tenth birthday a few months prior. His grandmother had made a cake, Makoto had come over with his parents and siblings to stay the night when his parents took the twins home as they started to fuss. They had played video games and watched movies until late in the evening before going to bed with the promise that they’d go swimming together they next day.

And they did.

Haru wanted that for Makoto. He wanted him to have a great birthday. His grandmother had told him that ten years on Earth was important. Ten years was a decade, and people only lived to be around eighty years old, so that was one-eighth of life lived already.

Gifts that are made come from the heart, that’s what his grandmother had said so, with a determined face, he turned away from the figurine shop and headed to find his grandmother. As he expected, she was in the store that sold textiles. Rolls of yarn and thread in all sorts of colors were in the store and it smelled distinctly of the same soap his grandmother used.

Maybe all old people use the same soap _._

Haru quickly found his grandmother at the register and started telling her his dilemma when the lady at the cash register laughed softly. The lady looked abut the same age as his grandmother did; she had the same lines of years of smiles and laughter on her face and Haruka regarded her with a simple nod, cocking his head to the side at the reason for her laughter.

“You have a very polite grandson, Nanase-san,” the woman said, giving Haruka sweet smile, “You don’t see many children these days so bent on making their friends a birthday gift.” Haruka’s grandmother laughed in turn and smiled, placing a hand on Haruka’s shoulder, which caused him to pout slightly. He wasn’t a child.

“Haru-chan, why don’t you make Makoto-chan something to wear. There’s plenty of material to choose from. You can pick anything, dear,” she said. Well, that was an idea. Winter was coming up, and it usually started to get a little chilly around Makoto’s birthday. Makoto loved scarves and sweaters and anything warm like kotatsu tables and tea and kittens. It fit his personality to be honest.

Surveying the store with calculating eyes, Haruka decided what he’d do and went off in search for what he wanted. How hard could it be to make Makoto something? He’d seen his grandmother knit plenty of things – she had made him a hat last year when he lost his at school – and with Haruka’s artistic skills, it didn’t seem like a challenge.

But it would be a gift he’d put his everything into. A gift that Makoto could keep forever and Haruka could always see it and remember that he had made it for him. A sense of pride came over him and he picked out the colored wool he wanted: a pale green, black, and white. He carried the bundles of wool back to his grandmother at the register and placed them next to her items. She beamed at him before she paid, and he turned away with another pout.

* * *

Knitting was much, much harder than Haruka had imagined. His grandmother had sat him down in the living room the next day with a pair of borrowing knitting needles and started showing him how to begin with a scarf she had already started. Haruka watched with eyes narrowed in concentration. Right, it looked simple.

Two hours later, he was about ready to give up. He had wanted to make a sweater for Makoto, knowing his friend liked them way more than he liked jackets or sweat shirts, but he had a feeling he was failing. His stitches were lopsided and unevenly spaces, the holes between some of them far too larger and others were pulled too tightly together. He bit his lip, starting at the pile of yarn in his lap. Makoto wouldn’t like his gift if it looked like that. It wouldn’t even be _warm_ like this.

His grandmother found him like that, staring down at the yarn with a close-to-tears expression on his face.

“Makoto won’t like it like this,” he said quietly when she asked what was wrong, his voice trembling slightly. He didn’t know why he was getting so upset either. It was just a birthday gift. He had gotten Makoto nine of them in the past, five he actually remembered, and four that he had picked out himself, and Makoto had loved each and every one of them, thanking Haruka with a tight hug and an excited squeal when he unwrapped it.

He remembered exactly where the four he had bought were in Makoto’s room.

There was a framed photo of them and Makoto’s parents at the water park the summer when they were six and five years old hanging on the wall next to Makoto’s closet. There was a stuffed orca plushie in one of the drawers of Makoto’s desk from the green-eyed boy’s sixth birthday, the white on the orca grey with use and love.

The package of colored pencils he had gotten Makoto for his seventh birthday were still sitting neat and organized in their metal container. Inside the lid of tin was a drawing Haru had made for him. He had gone to Tokyo with his parents for a few days and bought the colored pencils, knowing Makoto would love them. Haruka liked drawing, but Makoto was into coloring, and he knew that he treasured the colored pencils. He wouldn’t let Nagisa or Rin near them when they came over for sleepovers, even going as far as to hide them sometimes when the two came over.

For his eighth birthday, Haruka had gotten Makoto another orca plushie and a bracelet to match the beaded one Makoto had given to him a few months earlier. His grandmother called them friendship bracelets and he had told Makoto that as he put it around his wrist for him, which had made the green-eyed boy’s eyes glow in awe and delight. Haruka liked that look.

The previous year, for his ninth birthday, Haruka’s grandmother had helped him buy the tickets to the giant new aquarium opening on the coast only a train ride away. Makoto’s parents had left them off at the aquarium and they had the day to themselves. Makoto had tried to buy Haru something at the gift shop, but Haru had profusely declined. It was Makoto’s birthday after all, and it wasn’t fair for him to have to buy anything. As they waited for Makoto’s parents to come back and walk them to the train station again, Makoto had told him it was the best present he could’ve asked over. He had given him one of those beaming smiles that died down into some gentler, tenderer, which made Haruka’s heart speed up a bit.

True, all of those gifts over the years had made Makoto happy, but he hadn’t made any of them, and his grandmother’s words were eating at his heart.

“Oh, Haru-chan,” his grandmother chided, huffing as she knelt next to him, “Makoto-chan will love anything you make for him, alright? Now, do you want my help?” Haruka’s eyes lit up at her offer and he nodded quickly, trying to hand her the sweater. With a laugh, she stood and shook her head.

“No, Haru-chan,” she laughed, “You have to do some too. How about this: I’ll make the sleeves, but you have to finish the torso part, okay?” With a little sigh, Haruka nodded.

“Okay,” he mumbled, staring back down at the needles with newfound determination. 

Days passed, each one closing in on Makoto’s birthday, and each day Haruka worked diligently on the sweater. With his grandmother’s help with the sleeves and the design of the orca on the front, he found himself done a day before the day. With a sigh, he put the needles and remaining yarn away and looked over his work. It was sloppy in a lot of areas. Gaps between the yarn stitches were spread out, some more gapping than others, but the sleeves were long, maybe a little too long, and the turtleneck Haruka had been going for was longer in the front than in the back. Nevertheless, Haruka was proud of it, and it felt so warm to the touch.

Wrapping it was easy. He was good at wrapping. He found an appropriated sized box, folded the sweater as neatly as he could with its flaws, and wrapped it in tissue paper. The finished wrapping looked nice, and he added a silver bow to the top of the box, knowing at his last birthday, Ren and Ran had become easily distracted by the bow. Hopefully, a year later, the same thing would occur. 

* * *

“Haru-chan! Haru-chan!”

The door to Makoto’s home was flung open even before Haruka could knock the next day. He should have expected that though. Makoto was always waiting for him at the door, especially that day of all days. He had his present for Makoto and a container of cookies he’d helped his grandmother bake that she insisted he bring over. They were chocolate chip; Makoto’s favorite.

“Happy birthday, Makoto,” he said back with a small smile as the green eyed boy smiled brightly, rocking on the heels of his feet in excitement.

“Thank you, Haru-chan! Come in! Come in!” he chirped, taking Haruka’s free hand and tugging him inside. After toeing off his shoes at the door and setting the tin of cookies in the kitchen with Makoto’s parents, he followed Makoto into the living room.

“This is for you,” he mumbled, holding out the box to Makoto. Makoto’s eyes went wide and that smile on his face grew as he accepted it.

“Thank you, Haru-chan! The wrapping looks so amazing, I almost don’t want to open it later,” he giggled, grinning at Haruka as he placed the gift on the coffee table and took Haruka’s hand, “Come on. We’re eating first. Are you hungry?” he asked, not waiting for an answer as he got up again and brought them both into the kitchen. 

After dinner, Makoto’s parents left Haruka and Makoto alone and Makoto took him up to his room to open the present. Haruka’s eyes gazed around the room, taking in the most recent orca toy on Makoto’s bed, the photo of them on the wall to the side, and the tin of pencils on his desk. He couldn’t help but to smile softly.

“Haru-chan? Don’t you want me to open your gift?” Makoto asked, breaking his train of thought. With a nod, Haruka crossed the room to sit besides Makoto on the bed. The green-eyed boy pulled off the bow first, placing it to the side with almost too much care before he tore off the wrapping, the shiny blue paper falling to the ground in pieces. As the crinkling of tissue paper reached Haruka’s ears he suddenly became nervous. What if Makoto didn’t like it? What if he didn’t realize he had made it? What if-

“Haru?” Makoto’s voice rang out again, stopping his thoughts where they were. He looked over to his friend to see Makoto’s green eyes wide and his mouth open slightly as he held the sweater in his hands with utmost care, his eyes moving over the entire surface of the clothing, “Haru... Did you... Did you _make this_ for me?” he asked in a hushed tone, his fingers tracing the stitches and the design of the orca in the center before he looked up to Haruka with wide eyes.

When their eyes met. Haruka turned his gaze away flustered and gave a small nod. Makoto let out a little gasp before he threw his arms around Haruka, squeezing him tight.

“Wha-! Makoto, what’re you-“

“This is the best present ever, Haru,” Makoto cut him off, “Thank you, thank you so, so much, Haru. I love it,” he said, pulling back with a gentle smile on his face and gratitude brimming in his eyes, “Can I... Can I put it on?” he asked, wariness in his tone. Haruka scoffed at that, rolling his eyes but nodding nonetheless. Makoto smiled wider and stood to pull the sweater he was already wearing over his head, tossing it unceremoniously to the side in haste to get into the one Haru made for him. He slid it on and it came down past the waistline of his shorts. The sleeves were bunched at his wrists and would nearly cover his hands if he flattened them out, and the turtleneck Haruka had attempted to create didn’t look too bad.

“It’s perfect, Haru-chan!” Makoto said excitedly, staring down at his arms and chest adorned in soft, light-green wool, “I can’t believe you made this yourself. It’s wonderful... The best gift I’ve ever gotten!” he giggled, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Is it warm?” Haruka asked softly, watching Makoto with pride and relief swelling inside him.

“Mhm!” Makoto nodded happily, lifting his wrists to his face to smell the fabric, “Mm, smells like Haru-chan’s house,” he murmured, his eyes holding a far away look for a moment, “I’m going to wear it to school tomorrow! It’s supposed to be really cold tomorrow, so it’s the perfect chance!” he said happily before pulling Haruka into another hug that – this time – the raven-haired boy accepted.

* * *

To his word, Makoto wore the sweater to school the next day, and nearly every day that winter, and the next winter at that, the largeness of the clothing making it so he wouldn’t outgrow it for a while. Haruka never considered the fact that Makoto wouldn’t be able to wear the sweater forever. It was the summer before middle school and he was already nearly four inches taller than Haruka, despite Haruka’s attempts to catch up.  Makoto had always been larger than the rest of their classmates, but it was finally really showing that summer.

They were in Makoto’s room one warm day, Haruka on the bed relishing in the cool air flowing out the open window while Makoto went through his drawers. His mother had wanted him to clear out all his old clothes from elementary school upon the start of middle school. Anything that Ren could wear was going in one box, and anything else was going in another box for the local children’s shelter.

There was a calm silence in the room, the sound of drawers opening and closing and the wind through the window being the only things to momentarily pierce the silence until...

“Ah! I remember this!” Haruka looked up and saw Makoto kneeling by his dresser, holding the sweater Haruka had knit for him nearly three years earlier in his hands. Makoto smiled and looked over to him, “Too bad this is too small now,” he said, his voice disappointed but a nostalgic smile was on his face, “I don’t think Ren would like it very much either... Ah well,” he shrugged.

Haruka felt a lump growing in his throat that he could barely swallow down and he had to look away. He couldn’t bear to watch where Makoto’s hands would put the sweater, knowing it’d land in the box marked for giving away.

It hurt.

He’d always thought that Makoto would keep the garment forever or something silly like that, that the crudely put together piece of cloth would hold some meaning to him. Was he wrong? The sweater held memories; memories of his grandmother helping him, memories of that birthday with Makoto, playing video games and finally falling asleep side-by-side on the futon, Makoto still clad in the light-green fabric. Memories of cold days walking to school, days at the old swim club when Haruka would sometimes wear the sweater if he had forgotten to bring something warmer.

He couldn’t bear it any longer and he sat up, getting off the bed, “I’m going to go swim,” he said as an excuse, knowing that the pool wasn’t open due to mandatory cleaning. Makoto looked with a confused look on his face. They were supposed to have a sleep over, the last one before Makoto went on his camping trip with his family and middle school started.

“Oh... Okay, Haru-chan... See you later then?” he called after.

“Yeah,” Haruka said in response, giving him a short nod before he left the room, the lump still in his throat as he walked home.

* * *

“Ah! Haru, I almost forgot!” Makoto said, poking his head out from the doorway on the way to the bathroom, previously occupied by Haru, “I moved your clothes to the second drawer from the bottom, okay? Don’t forget!” With that, he was gone again, off to take his bath and hope that Haruka hadn’t consumed all the hot water.

Haru stood alone in Makoto’s room, sleepily toweling off his hair, another towel wrapped around his waist before he put his boxers on. It was their third year of high school and sleepovers like this had become increasingly common after the summer of second year. Makoto didn’t pull out the futon anymore, Haruka had his own drawer of clothes in Makoto’s bureau, and more often than not, they’d shower and take a bath together.  There wasn’t really anything special to when or how it happened; it just happened, and life was better that way.

After about ten minutes of standing, contemplating anything and everything that happened to run through his head as he dried his hair, he figured he should probably get dressed. Kou had given them a lot more drills than usual that day in swim practice and all Haru wanted to do was curl up besides Makoto and turn in early.

He slipped on his boxers and headed for Makoto’s dresser, opening the bottom drawer out of habit only to be greeted with a half-empty drawer of Makoto’s sleep shirts. Right, Makoto moved his things to the second drawer from the bottom. He was about to slide the drawer shut when something in the back caught his eye and he opened it again, reached under the t-shirts to grab hold of worn wool.

With wide eyes, he pulled out the sweater, looking at it in his palms in shock.

Hadn’t Makoto gotten rid of this? He could’ve sworn he did. He looked over the sweater, taking in the bad technique of the knitting and how the design on the front was crooked and fraying a bit. The entire thing was fraying. It hadn’t been this way the last time Haruka had seen it, this worn and so well used.

He stayed there, crouched in front of the open drawer, staring in wonder down at the cloth when he heard Makoto enter the room.

“Haru? I said the second draw-“ He heard Makoto’s voice cut off when he saw what Haruka was holding, “Oh...” he whispered. Haruka heard his footsteps coming closer and Makoto crouched besides him, the fabric of his t-shirt brushing Haruka’s still bare arm.

“You... You kept this? I thought.... I thought you...” He trailed off. He couldn’t finish that sentence. Thinking about it, thinking about how much Makoto cherished and loved this gift he had given him all those years ago made him feel horrible that he had even considered that the other teen had just gotten rid of it.

“Of course I kept it,” Makoto said softly. Haruka turned to look at him and was greeted by a tender smile and warm, nostalgic eyes as he gazed from the sweater to Haruka’s face, “It’s still the best gift anyone’s ever given me. I’d never get rid of it,” he said simply as if he spoke the words every day. Haruka opened his mouth to say something but no words came out so he pressed his lips together again, swallowing thickly as he looked back to the cloth.

“Sorry,” he whispered, “I thought you had-“

“Don’t be sorry,” Makoto cut him off before he could finish, “There’s nothing to apologize for, Haru. It was just a misunderstanding.” Warmth enveloped Haruka’s hand when Makoto grasped it in his own, raising it to his lips to kiss along his knuckles absently as he stared down at the worn piece of clothing in Haruka’s hand with a calm expression.

“Why is it like this?” Haruka asked, his fingers gently moving along the frayed edges of the sleeves and the stray pieces of wool sticking out some places, “It wasn’t this worn out the last time I saw it,” he murmured, looking up to Makoto for an answer. Makoto blinked in sunrise at the question before an easy smile once more spread across his lips.

“Don’t you remember?” he asked, taking the sweater from Haruka’s hand and raising it to his face, closing his eyes as he took a whiff of the fabric, letting out a shuddering breath against it, “I told you,” he murmured, his voice slightly muffled by the fabric, “It smells like Haru-chan’s house... It reminds me of you,” he shrugged, “So when you didn’t use to sleep over several times a week like now and I got lonely or had a nightmare or if you were away, it would remind me of you, and I wouldn’t feel... so lonely anymore,” he said, his voice becoming quieter as he explained until he trailed off, “Even if it didn’t fit anymore, I could still use it for something, right?”

“Oh.” Haruka finally managed out the sound after taking in exactly what Makoto said. He let a small smile slip onto his face at that and he gently took the sweater back from Makoto, folding it neatly and tucking it into the back of the drawer again. After a beat, he turned into Makoto’s arms, wrapping his arms around Makoto’s warm shoulders, “You’re so sentimental,” he sighed burying his face in Makoto’s shoulder. Makoto laughed and embraced him, wrapping him in his arms.

“Maybe I am,” he laughed softly, “But that means you are too. I mean, you’re the one who made it, right?” he teased, pulling away slightly to look into Haruka’s eyes, “Maybe you can make me another one!” Haruka laughed at that, quietly, shaking his head and looking away.

“No. That was a one time thing,” he huffed, “I was terrible at knitting anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! 
> 
> Feel free to like or rebog the entry at the MakoHaru festival tumblr! Also, if you like Makoharu and either draw, write, or both, join the festivities! 
> 
> Title from Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood.
> 
> Stay tuned for more challenge fills!
> 
> http://www.makoharufestival.tumblr.com


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